Murder in the Multiverse Page 6

  I could do with one of those, thought Alex. Surely steps taken to fast food restaurants and her local Chinese takeout counted? If she ran there, it would count double.

  The sun had disappeared and the air felt damp, as if it had been raining while they were in the theater. Alex blinked, wondering what it was like to work in a building with no natural light. Did the bright stage lights make up for it?

  Monique pulled her raincoat tighter and shivered. Alex looked up at the sky, tensing. Her thin jacket would disintegrate if it got too wet, like a wicked witch caught under a bucket of water.

  “So that was helpful,” said Monique, picking up pace.

  “Helpful?”

  Monique shrugged. “Yes.”

  “My impression was that that was about as helpful as Dracula stopping to guide an old lady across the street.”

  Monique laughed. “Ruling suspects out can be just as useful as ruling them in. At least we know for sure that Sean’s not our man.”

  Alex sighed, wondering how Monique could be so positive. “When are you going to tell me why you’ve brought me here?”

  They were a few blocks east of the theater now, near the Civic Center. Monique stopped walking, oblivious to the young man, dressed in a suit the color of grass who’d crashed into her from behind. He muttered at her and she frowned at him as if he were an idiot.

  “Did you notice anything odd about him?” Monique asked.

  “Sean? Well, he did look a lot like Harry Potter.”

  “Not that.”

  “And those specs…”

  “Not that kind of odd. Physics kind of odd.”

  “What exactly is physics kind of odd?”

  “Humor me.”

  Alex thought of the smell in the lab, when she’d messed up Dr Katz’s experiment. Schrödinger, and the way he’d hissed at Sean on the screen. The fact that her cat smelled like that too. Sometimes.

  “He smelled off.”

  Monique didn’t laugh. She didn’t tell Alex she was an idiot. Instead, she nodded.

  “Look,” said Alex, dragging her curls behind her ears. “There was this experiment, the other night. The night Claire died. It sort of went wrong.”

  “Hmm-hmm. How did it go wrong?”

  Alex frowned.

  “It’s about separating quantum particles from their properties. So if you stop a neutron from spinning, it means the spin is somewhere else. It’s all about observation of properties and how it relates to whether the particle is behaving the way you think it is when you observe it. And about how things that happen in the future can affect things happening now, quantum things.”

  Monique was nodding.

  “Did that make any sense?” asked Alex.

  “Not a word.”

  Alex smiled. “So…?”

  “This is why we want to hire you. You get this stuff, and… well, we don’t.”

  “What stuff? It’s just a locked room mystery.”

  Monique leaned in. “A locked room mystery with a twist.”

  “I’m a physicist, not a cop. Why have you got me sitting in on interrogations?”

  “That wasn’t an interrogation.”

  A cloud passed over Monique’s face. People were swarming around them, parting like ants around a twig. Maybe they’d pick the two of them up in a moment, carry them somewhere.

  Monique put a hand on Alex’s shoulder and looked into her eyes. The Lieutenant had brown eyes flecked with hazel. Her skin was pale and blotchy, like she’d applied foundation in two different colors.

  “We have this unit. You won’t have heard of it.”

  “Try me.”

  Monique laughed, a high-pitched laugh that made Alex think of glass shattering.

  “You don’t let things get to you, do you?”

  Alex frowned. “I need to get back to Berkeley.”

  “Don’t worry about Berkeley.”

  “Why not?”

  “Come.”

  Monique continued walking. She stopped at an intersection, pausing a moment before darting across. She didn’t wait for the lights. Alex followed. As she reached the other side, she felt air behind her; a bus. Its horn sounded, deep and accusatory, and she shrugged an apology.

  Monique stopped walking and Alex nearly barreled into her. Monique waited for her to compose herself.

  “What I’m about to tell you is confidential. You can’t tell anyone at Berkeley. Not the Head of Faculty. Not your lab partner,” she said.

  Alex frowned. Rik was a pal. He may not be the most dynamic of guys but he was a hard worker who could be relied on for crunching data or trawling through samples. The kind of work that would make someone like Monique shudder.

  Monique cocked her head. “Nor anyone else. I know you’ll want to, but I need you to promise that you won’t. There’ll be paperwork, but for now you’ll have to give me your word.”

  Alex sighed and nodded. Another thing to feel guilty about.

  “Good.” Monique carried on walking and Alex followed. Monique was a fast walker, but Alex’s Vans gave her the edge over those nasty beige patent heels. “So. First up. We’re stuck. On this case. It wasn’t Sean, and we can’t find a trace of anyone else it could be.”

  “Could it be one of the others? Acting on Sean’s behalf maybe? Jealous?”

  “They divorced six years ago. You heard what that awful theater director said. No-one else even knew Sean was married. As far as they’re concerned, he’s gay and always has been.”

  They passed the Civic Center, fighting their way through the afternoon crowds of office workers and tourists. The clouds had parted and the rough sleepers bundled up in empty alcoves were illuminated by gentle sunlight. Monique turned up a side street, stopped at a Starbucks and marched inside.

  Alex followed her. “Why are we stopping?”

  Monique ordered two skinny vanilla lattes. Alex would have preferred whipped cream and a bit less vanilla, but a free coffee was a free coffee.

  Monique pushed to the back of the dark space and grabbed a table only just big enough to hold their drinks. She asked a neighboring couple if they were using a spare chair and then dragged it over to join the one already at their table. Alex watched all this as she sat down, placing the two mugs between them. Monique wrapped her fingers around hers, revealing chipped nail varnish on bitten fingernails. She took a tissue out of her bag, blew her nose and then stuffed it in a pocket. She looked around the coffee shop, tightening her grip on her mug. Alex stifled a yawn and drank; the late night in the lab was catching up with her. She wished she’d asked for an extra shot.

  “OK,” Monique muttered, leaning across the table and sending a gust of hot breath Alex’s way. Alex leaned back, resisting the urge to put her hand to her nose. Her chair wobbled and she pulled herself upright, bringing her coffee up between their faces.

  “You’ll be wondering why I dragged you around all day.”

  “You might say that.”

  Monique looked around and lowered her voice. “Our victim hasn’t come into contact with anyone for over six years, at least not face to face. She has no enemies, and the last person to see her alive was her ex-husband, who has the best goddamn alibi I ever saw.”

  Alex nodded.

  “And Mike felt something.”

  “Felt something? What is he, a soothsayer?”

  “He has experience which means he detects traces of something on people sometimes.”

  “I don’t get you.”

  “People generally don’t. Just trust me.”

  “You still haven’t told me why I’m here.”

  “In cases like this, we have another string to our bow. Something we can use.”

  Monique leaned in further. Alex held her breath, trying not to blink.

  “There’s a secret unit,” Monique said. She cast a quick glance about her. She needed to stop acting so suspiciously. Alex wasn’t sure if she was about to be told something ground-breaking or something very, very dull.

  “I
t’s in the parking lot. Of the Hall of Justice. You won’t have seen it.”

  “But the Hall of Justice is being cleared out. It’s unsafe.”

  “Yes.”

  Alex said nothing.

  “Ask me why it’s being emptied. Why it isn’t safe. Why the ceiling routinely leaks urine.”

  Alex had read the reports in the Chronicle but didn’t know what to believe. There was a story that one time, a toilet had backed up and human excrement had leaked into the DA’s office.

  “OK. Why isn’t it safe?”

  “Quantum effects.”

  Alex leaned back. Another muggle thinking they understood physics. “Quantum effects? Seriously?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I know all about quantum effects. It’s my area. It definitely doesn’t make poop leak out of the ceiling.”

  Monique twisted her lips. “She didn’t believe us at first either.”

  “Who?”

  “Dr Pierce. Meet me tomorrow morning. 9am sharp, at the Hall of Justice. I’ll show you.”

  11

  Pigeon

  Berkeley

  25 March, 7:15pm

  “Hey, Shrew.”

  “Meow.”

  “Oh no. You definitely haven’t had a weirder day than me.”

  “Meow.”

  “Two pigeons? Nice one.” She gave him a ruffle behind the ears. He smelled normal.

  Good. Normal was what she needed, right now.

  Schrödinger jumped down off the kitchen counter and headed for the bedroom door. It was closed.

  “What’s up, boy? Shut yourself out of your sleeping place? That’s not like you.”

  He hissed at the door. She froze.

  There was a sound coming from somewhere. Knocking.

  Schrödinger was at her feet, hissing.

  “Hey, boy. C’mere.”

  She scooped him up and buried her face in his fur, peering over his ginger ears to look around.

  Her apartment consisted of three rooms. The main living space, a tiny bedroom big enough for a family of dolls, and a shower room. More of a cubicle.

  The living space was empty. She drew in a breath, readying herself to open the bedroom door.

  She spat out a cat hair.

  Then she spotted movement through the thin drapes next to her, a shape on her balcony. And there it was again. The knocking.

  She approached the drapes, bringing Shrew up higher as if he could protect her. She felt his muscles tense.

  “Shh boy, it’s ok.”

  He leaped out of her arms and scuttled under the table. She glared at him.

  “Scaredy-cat.”

  He licked his paw and dragged it across his face.

  “Pretending to be nonchalant, are we?”

  The cat ignored her. There was another knock at the window. She drew toward it, picking up a comedy bust of Albert Einstein as she passed the TV table. She pulled the fabric to one side.

  The man’s face was pressed against the glass. He had dark hair, and half a beard.

  “You again?”

  She opened the door. He was standing on her balcony, shivering. He wore a faded gray suit that looked like it needed a wash. There was a metallic smell on him, mixed with something she couldn’t place. Something oddly familiar.

  “Sorry. It’s urgent.”

  She looked back to see Schrödinger emerge from his hiding place under the table. He was advancing toward them, his nose prodding at the air.

  “Hello, girl,” said Mike as he slipped into the room.

  “He’s a boy.”

  “Sorry.” Mike bent to Schrödinger, who arched his back to be stroked.

  “I’d leave him alone if I were you. He hates people.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Seriously. He’ll bite your thumb off as soon as look at you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Alex frowned at Mike. He was squatting on her kitchen floor, Schrödinger perched precariously on his thigh. Shrew was purring like a pneumatic drill boring through diamond.

  “Huh?”

  “He likes me.”

  “Why?”

  Mike gave the cat a gentle push. He stood up and looked at Alex. Schrödinger was looping round his legs. He shoved his nose between Mike’s ankles, trying to get between his feet.

  Alex stepped forwards and picked him up. He strained against her.

  “Stop it,” she muttered in his ear. He responded by giving her a swipe with his paw.

  She was so shocked she dropped him.

  “Did Monique tell you about the MIU?” asked Mike.

  “The MI-what?”

  “Right. Did she tell you she needed to see you again?”

  “Tomorrow. What’s it to you?”

  He shook his head. Schrödinger was back at his feet. He rested his paws against Mike’s trouser legs, meowing.

  Alex frowned at him. Stop being disloyal.

  Mike leaned down to pat the cat’s head then looked at Alex. She realized he was panting.

  “Forget that,” he said. “I need you to come with me now. Claire Pope’s life depends on it.”

  12

  Miu

  San Francisco

  25 March, 8:22pm

  The Hall of Justice was a dark square against the night sky. Alex pulled her jacket tight as they approached the entrance.

  Mike had been silent on the way in, focused on the traffic. He liked to talk to the drivers of the cars round him, berating or congratulating them on their driving. Hey, don’t pull in there, that’s no space for a tank like that! Congratulations madam, an excellent use of signaling. That kind of thing.

  At the double doors, he put his hands to the glass and peered through. A security guard opened up, full of smiles.

  “Hey, Sarge, how’s things?”

  “Good, thanks Henry.” Mike placed his hand on the guard’s shoulder.

  “Who’s your friend?” the guard asked. He looked at Alex, but not in an unfriendly way.

  “New recruit.”

  “Ah. One of those boffins.”

  Mike laughed and Alex felt her flesh crawl. She resisted the urge to contradict the guard, to tell Mike to hurry.

  Mike ushered her through a second set of doors.

  “When are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “You’ll find out very soon.”

  They took a corridor towards the back of the building, then he pushed through more doors and they found themselves in what looked like a service corridor. The walls were bare brick in places, plaster peeling off the surfaces. She could vaguely smell human excrement mixed with violets. She pushed her sleeve to her nose.

  Mike leaned against a set of heavy iron doors and punched some numbers into a keypad. When the doors opened, Alex gagged. The smell was worse, but it was mixed with…

  It was that smell again, from the lab. Heavy, and sharp, attacking her nostrils like it wanted to tear through her skin and get inside her. She held her breath.

  Every vehicle in the parking lot was a squad car, except one: a VW campervan. It was a bay window pop-top, with a natty green and yellow paint job. It made Alex think of her Aunty Morag, the van she and Uncle Hamish owned when he’d been alive. They’d used it to speed around the Highlands like a couple of insane learner-drivers who believed there was nothing else on the roads. On Hamish’s seventy-third birthday, he’d had a dram too many and driven it into Loch Garry, only just managing to drag his wife out before it sank in the murky water. Aunty Morag liked to embellish the story with details of the Highland songs she was singing at the time.

  Mike knocked on door of the van. A crash and the sound of a man muttering oh bum came from inside.

  After a moment, the voice called out. “Who is it?”

  “Mike.”

  “Code word?” The voice sounded male and elderly, upper class and English. It broke on the ‘d’ of ‘word’.

  Mike sighed. “Aubergine.”

  The door slid open
with a jolt and a head emerged. It was a young man of no more than twenty-three with sharp features, rosy cheeks and a mop of unruly hair the color of a semi-ripe banana.

  “Ah. The new girl.” He stumbled backwards then righted himself. “Welcome.”

  Alex frowned. The man was at least thirty-two years too young for that voice.

  “Go on then,” urged Mike.

  As she entered the van, the lighting seemed to rise up from the floor to envelop her. Ahead was a large space, the kind of room you might imagine an elderly professor having as his library but much, much bigger. Immediately at her feet, between her and the man, was a puddle of coffee.

  “Sorry about that.” He shoved his hair back and knelt on the floor, poking at it with his sleeve. “You gave me a fright.”

  Alex ignored the coffee. She looked back past Mike. She thought of all those bigger on the inside episodes of Doctor Who and resolved not to jump out and walk around the van, just to check.

  It wasn’t easy.

  “Nice office you have here,” she said to the blond man. “Dimensional transcendence?”

  “Well I’ll be dingly darned.” He stood and cracked a smile that betrayed dentistry that even her Scottish family would be ashamed of. “Congratulations.”

  She nodded. About six feet behind him, in the center of the space, was a console. It was broad and circular, with what looked like a touchscreen display all the way around it. She stepped towards it.

  Mike grabbed her by the wrist. “Don’t.”

  She shook him off. “What is all this, anyway?”

  The tousle-headed man held out his hand. “Allow me to introduce myself, my dear. I am Professor Nemesis Orion, and this is the MIU.”

  “MIU?”

  “The Multiverse Investigations Unit.”

  “Looks like a campervan to me.”

  “Not on the inside.”

  She leaned towards those screens again, aching to touch them.

  “So can it change form?” she asked. “On the outside?”

  “Of course not.” He looked at her as if she’d suggested dinosaurs had never existed.